Thomas smiled. “Try lifting it, sir.”
Adam grasped the pair of iron handles and lifted it to his waist with a grunt. The weight astounded him. “This is quite heavy.”
“That much gold is heavy, sir. I can no longer lift the box, old as I am. At least a hundred weight it is.”
Adam nodded, both hopeful of and dismayed by the substantial heft of the box. “Right. I will carry it, then.”
He turned and moved to the edge of the pit. The loss of his arms for balance brought forth beads of sweat on his forehead, despite the chill of the mine. He eyed the drop with trepidation, then the plank.
“No direction but forward,” he whispered. As cautiously as possible, he slipped over the plank to the far side. His pent breath exploded. “Merciful God.”
Between the light of two torches, one leading and one trailing, he trudged up the incline to the mine entrance. His expectant gaze fell on Jane as he emerged from the hole. When she spied the box, her face fell. He found a level spot, set the box down, and leaned over with hands on knees to catch his heaving breath.
“How…do we open it?” he said between gasps of air.
Thomas slipped up beside him and produced a key from a chain looped around his neck. He knelt, inserted the key, and turned it. After resisting Thomas’s fidgeting, the lock surrendered to the key and clicked open. Thomas removed it and stood.
“There you are, sir.”
Adam knelt gravely before the box and glanced up at Jane. She dipped her head one time, her hands knotted together. He returned the nod and lifted the lid to reveal an array of gold guineas stacked inside individual square silos. She whispered something he could not ascertain, but her message was clear. Dismay. He stood and faced Thomas.
“Well?”
The old man eyed the box with scrutiny. “It’s all there, sir. Sixty-four stacks of one-hundred coins each. Just as my father accepted it from Mr. Hancock. Just as it has remained for seventy years.”
“And you are the only one who knows of this box?”
Thomas nodded grimly. “Of course, sir. I have kept the faith.”
Adam narrowed his eyes. “And in such desperate times, you did not take even one coin for yourself?”
Thomas’s face drew down, offended. “No, sir. I would never. My father made a promise and passed that promise to me for safekeeping.”
He placed a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “My apologies, Mr. Chance. I rarely witness such sterling character, so please forgive my cynical nature.”
“Of course, sir.”
Adam squeezed the man’s shoulder and stepped to Jane’s side. He stole one of her hands. “I am sorry, Jane, for the both of us.”
She nodded sadly. “As am I.”
He looked to Barlow. “Now what?”
Barlow pursed his lips, sadness evidenced by his fallen features. “As the representative of Mr. Rutley, I bear witness to the fact that the full amount of the contracted fortune has been found. As such, the contract remains binding, as despicable as it is. And the contract states that the toss of a coin must determine the owner of the box.”
“Well, then, we cannot forestall the inevitable any longer.” Adam fished from his pocket the half crown supplied to him by Mr. Rutley after the contract signing. He rubbed it briefly and handed it to Barlow. “You do the honors, sir.”
“Right. Who will call the toss?”
“Jane will.”
Barlow set the coin on his thumb and flipped it into the air. Jane squeezed Adam’s hand.
“Tails.”
As the coin spun, an astonishing thought occurred to Adam. He hoped the toss would fall Jane’s way. For even if it did, at least his children would someday reclaim the land that he had forfeited. The coin clattered to the rocky surface, bounced twice, and settled at a shallow slant. Barlow bent to observe the result. When he stood, his expression was grim.
“Heads.”
